The Man the City Swallowed

Ethan grabbed his tool bag and climbed down the inspection ladder into the bridge support. It was narrow, dark, and slick with old moisture and machine oil. Steel beams crossed overhead in a lattice. The train tracks vibrated a wall away, carrying a low metallic hum through the structure. He put a hand on the railing, then froze. Something inside it was ringing. Not sound. Memory. Tiny vibrations crawled through his palm and into his skull, forming a miserable picture: someone had pried open the service hatch half an hour earlier. Four people. Crowbars. Black masks. One of them carrying a long bag. Metal inside the bag clattering softly. And then, at the end, a dull thump, like something heavy had been shoved off a ledge. Ethan looked up.